


The Super Secret Squad in: The Adventure of Radon Canyon!

by punkrockgaia



Series: Super Secret Squad! [1]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Abuse, Bad Parenting, Bullying, Drinking, F/M, Gen, M/M, Mental Illness, Smoking, Teen Angst, paint huffing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-02 12:49:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1056951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkrockgaia/pseuds/punkrockgaia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon, Simone, and Steve visit Radon Canyon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Super Secret Squad in: The Adventure of Radon Canyon!

**Author's Note:**

> Simon is Cecil's brother, mentioned briefly in the episode "Cassette". Thanks again to Nazi-Nurse and Honeyed-Rose for naming the character and coming up with the character designs!

Simon snarled and picked at the rubbery cheese on his pizza. All the people at Sammy’s -- they were so fucking annoying. Sheep, all of them. Happy with their fucking little lives, with their fucking comfortable houses, with being happy. They didn’t know.

Him and his friends, they knew what life really was. Steve lived with his mom, too. His mom, and like a million half-brothers and sisters in a trailer out by the used car lot. Simone’s parents had been fine, really good, in fact, until a sand pit had swallowed them whole and left her to live with her crazy grandparents. They followed the “old religion” and locked her in the closet once in a while. Fortunately, they were susceptible to her “sleepytime tea,” with valerian, chamomile, and just a _hint_ of Phenobarbital. She went out whenever she wanted.

The three of them had been the best of friends since the third grade. Of course, now Simone was more than a friend. He stared at her, soft brown ringlets framing a Botticelli face, fingerless gloves, multiple layers of dark, shapeless clothing. She was beautiful. He leaned over and licked her on the cheek.

“Ooow! Don’t fucking touch me!” She screeched and shoved at him with her knife, eyes darting, then gave him a quick hug and kiss on the temple to let him know everything was okay. Steve looked at them, eyebrows arching over the frames of his glasses, then continued to scribble in his notebook. Simon was satisfied. They were his crew. He chuffed softly and leaned back in his chair.

He felt a hand tugging at his sleeve and turned, seeing a kid in a Boy Scout uniform with ginger hair and a flushed face, fidgeting at him. The kid cleared his throat.

“Uh, Simon, uh, is your brother going to come out tonight?”

Simon forced his features into a gleaming grin. “Why, no! It’s a big fucking holiday at the Palmer house, actually. Mother is having a lucid night, so she and the five-eyed freak have cranked up the gramophone and hauled out the Ouija Board. I’m sure they would love the company, though, if you wanted to go over there...”

The ginger boy looked as if he might cry, and shifted his weight. “Uh, well, I don’t want to intrude...”

“Now, now, Hurl. If you want to bone my little brother, and I’m pretty sure that you do, you have to get over being afraid of my mother. Because Cecil is a HUGE mama’s boy. He’s going to live at home forever. So you’d better get used to it and not terror-barf when you come over. It’s gonna be your home soon.”

Simon snickered as the kid ran off to the bathroom, freckles standing out clear against his now milk-white face. He glanced across the table to see Steve, clutching his pencil with white knuckles, mouth drawn back in a horrified rictus.

“Five eyes now? What would cause that?”

Simon sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. “Ugh, no, it’s still just the three. He just got a new pair of glasses, and these ones makes him look like a major dorkorama. Dorkomus maximus. So he’s a four-eyes, plus one, you get it?”

Steve frowned for a moment, then flipped back to an earlier page in his notebook. “Another pair? How many is that this year?”

“Ah, god, I think three. Dorkbutt’s going to be selling pencils on the corner by next year at this rate.” 

Steve nodded and made a checkmark, then turned to his earlier page. “Do you realize that the City Council has been monitoring all of us?"

Simone rolled her eyes. "Yes, Steve. We know. You've been telling us that for years."

"And yet no one cares," Steve muttered, then turned back to his notebook.

Simon looked at his pizza slice, then felt an urge to stab something, so he grabbed his bread knife and sliced the slice into little pieces. As he hacked at it, he looked up to see Simone smiling at him.

"You feelin' okay, there, Si?"

"Yeah, just... Ugh. You know?"

"Yeah. I know." She squeezed his hand.

For a moment, Simon felt like he owned the world. 

"So, uh, we ready to go?"

Simone grinned and nodded, Steve nodded and tucked his notebook and pencil back into his satchel. Both tensed for action.

Simon stretched expansively, then dug in his pocket for his cigarettes and his grandfather's Zippo. With great flair, he popped a Marlboro Red out of the pack and lit it. It took roughly 30 seconds for the counter guy, a big lug named Rico, to heave himself over to their table.

"Hey! No smokin' in this establishment!"

Simon took a deep drag and let it out like a genie's cloud. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"And so what?"

"So get the hell outta here!"

Simon waved his cigarette in the air and raised his voice so all the sheeple could hear him. "You heard that, kids. We're being forced to leave. Too bad we couldn't have paid our check, huh?"

Rico sputtered. "No, man, you still hafta pay!"

Simon turned on him, raising one pierced eyebrow. "I don't think so, sir. You asked us to leave before we finished our food. Therefore, we've been deprived of the services you provide. So we owe you nothing, correct?"

Rico stared at him. "Uh, well, uh..."

"Yeah, I fucking thought so." Simon put his cigarette out in the remains of his pizza and he stormed out of the restaurant, Simone and Steve trailing behind him.

They strode briskly down the sidewalk, in case anyone cared to follow. When no one did, they stopped and huddled on the street corner. Simon again pulled out his cigarettes and lighter and lit one, passing it to Simone, then lit another and took a long drag off of it himself. Steve didn't smoke.

Simon looked around at his crew. "So, what are we going to fucking do tonight, huh?"

Steve hugged his knapsack to his body. "We could go to the library and try to get in. I mean, I NEED to see that Helen Hunt biography." He twitched. "She KNOWS."

Simone snickered, then opened her tote. "Or, you know," she displayed a bottle of liquor and some spray paint cans, "we could party."

Simon grabbed her and kissed her desperately. "I'm with Simone." 

The three of them piled into Simone's grandparents' Dodge Colt. Steve wedged himself into the back seat, Simone was at the wheel, but Simon knew he was in charge. He always had been.

Simone looked to him. "Where we going?"

Simon took a deep breath. "Fuck it. We're going to Radon Canyon."

Simone got a bit pale, but grasped his hand tighter. "You sure?"

"Fuck yes. Steve, you got a problem with this?"

Steve looked up from his writing. "Yeah, yeah, whatever, okay?"

Simon lifted Simone's hand and bit it just hard enough to leave a mark. "Drive, my Sweet."

Simone smirked and put the car into drive. They went through the town streets, through the new developments, to the outskirts where the Peters, you know, the farmers, lived. Soon they got to the Canyon. No one was supposed to be out at the Canyon. That was why they were there.

The weird lights flared over the windshield of the Advil red car as the three teens got out. Simone took a deep breath and waved her hands overhead. 

"Fucking beautiful, isn't it?"

Simon grabbed the back of her hair and kissed her. "Not as beautiful as you, Monster." 

She shrieked with joy and bit his neck, then opened her satchel. She pulled out the bottle of peach schnapps that she'd shoplifted from the town liquor store and took a deep swallow, then passed it to Simon. He drank from the bottle and offered it to Steve, who looked at it with one quirking eye and shook his head.

"Do you even know what that is???"

Simone, already feeling the effects of the liquor, lolled her head back. "Yeah, Steve, it's joy juice. You got a problem with that?"

Steve grunted and buried his head in his notebook.

Simon and Simone ( _God, could it be more perfect?_ ) passed the pint bottle back and forth until it was empty, kissing in between gulps as Steve trembled and wrote in his book. Finally, Simone stood. Simon bit her on the ass as she did, and she shoved him away.

She grabbed the spray paint can and held it aloft. 

"I declare today to be the first day of the rest of our lives! Us, the SSS Squad, will take this day and make it ours forever!!!"

Simon struggled to his feet, in awe. He stood beside her and felt the heavens give way to his whims. He reached out his hand and dragged Steve to his feet. The three of them swayed for a moment, then Simone grabbed a paper bag and sprayed some of the paint inside. She took a deep inhale, then passed it to Simon. He breathed in deep and felt the earth fold beneath him. FUCK. He was God now. He passed the bag to Steve, who shook his head.

Giggling and giddy, Simone lead him to the door at the end of the canyon. It was plastered over with warnings, but what the hell were warnings for? They were young, and nothing could really hurt them.

"Lookit, Si. It's our penthouse apartment."

"Well, then, I guess it's time we go in, huh?"

With Simone urging him on, he threw his back into opening the door, not really believing he could open it. But it yielded surprisingly easily, and swung open with a creak. For a moment, the three paused.

"Don't go in there, Simon," begged Steve, his wispy beard shaking with his chin. "Please, you don't know what will happen."

"Do it, Simon," chanted Simone. "Go on, do it."

He stood for a moment, then tossed his hair. He'd never backed down from anything, and he wasn't going to start now, not with his best gal watching. He squared his shoulders and his jaw, then strode into the carved-out room in the rock. 

It wasn't a far walk, but once he was out of Simone's gaze, his legs turned to water and he slumped against the wall. He didn't know what to expect, but he did know that he wasn't supposed to be there. He waited for alarms, lasers, poison gas.

But nothing happened. There was nothing in the room but a small shelf carved into the rock, and a small metal box.

He walked toward the box. It was grey, and small, and shiny, and cold. On the top was plastered a yellow and black sticker.

"CONGRATULATIONS," the sticker read. "YOU ARE A UNIQUE AND TRAILBLAZING INDIVIDUAL. TAKE THIS BOX. YOU DESERVE WHAT IS INSIDE. YOU DESERVE WHAT IS INSIDE YOU. AMALGAMATED STREX."

Simon picked up the box. It was heavier than he thought it would be. He opened the box, and a lemon-yellow light streamed out and knocked him flat.

He saw a street. He saw himself striding down the street, a big man. He saw people bowing to him as he walked. He crushed them under his heels and laughed. A voice called to him: “Finally you get what you deserve.”

The light winked out. He sat up, groggily, and shook his head, then got to his feet and put the box in his pocket. 

_Tell no one,_ the box whispered inside his head. Simon nodded. 

He walked out to where Simone and Steve waited, and shut the heavy door behind him. Simone was in the process of spray-painting a three-headed snake on the canyon wall, marking it as their territory. 

"What was in there?" she breathed.

"Nuthin'," he grunted and sat down and lit a smoke. Steve made some more notes in his book.

They tried to pal around some more, but Simon wasn't really in the mood. He could tell that Simone was hurt when he didn't want to cuddle with her, but he also couldn't make himself care. After a brief, awkward while, Simone suggested they all go home. They bundled back into the car. 

They dropped Steve off first, at the trailer park. His mother was outside in her housecoat, drunk off her ass and yelling at the neighbors or the bushes or something as they drove off. 

Then they pulled up on the side of the road next to Simon's house. They should have had a driveway, but it was overgrown with thorn bushes. The giant, imposing house loomed in the background. 

"You gonna be okay?" Simone asked from underneath heavy bangs.

"Yeah, fine. It's just gonna be the same shit as ever, you know?"

"Yeah. Someday we're gonna get away, though, right?" She pressed her head to his.

"Yeah, Baby. We will. I promise." He kissed her, hard. "You wanna come in with me?"

She ducked her head. "Nah, not tonight. Soon, though, I promise, 'kay?"

"'Kay." He kissed her again, just a peck this time, then swung himself out of the passenger seat and slammed the door. He waved, lamely, for a moment, then strode as masculinely as he could up the narrow path through the thorns. 

He picked his way up the broken floorboards of the porch, then up to the doorway, using the six keys to open the six locks his mother had put on the door. 

The foyer was as dark as the night outside. They hadn't had power for about a week now, though Simon didn't know whether that was due to the wiring shorting out or Mother forgetting to pay the electric bill again.

He grabbed a flashlight from next to the door and started to weave through the debris-strewn space when a wraith draped in black floated out of the darkness and latched onto his arm.

“Fear blindness,” it rasped.

Simon sighed. “Mother, I think you have the wrong child again. I have 20/20 vision. It’s Captain Cataract you should be worrying about.”

She hissed, then stepped away from him. “Heed my words or perish. Two live where only one can exist.” She swept her shawl around her shoulders and dashed into the dark.

“And goodnight to you, you crazy bitch,” Simon called into the murk before mounting the stairs, careful to step over the ones that had rotted out.

Honestly, it was ridiculous that he and his brother had to share a room in what had at one time been a mansion. But at least half of the rooms upstairs were unusable, with the ceiling having collapsed and several generations of wild animals having grown up inside the walls. Of the rooms intact, four or five of them were filled with books and other paraphernalia, piled floor-to-ceiling with little regard to organization. Then there were the three rooms they were forbidden to enter. That left exactly one room for Simon and Cecil to share. Simon had no idea where his mother slept. If she slept.

He reached his room and swung the door open, sweeping his flashlight across the space. His side of the room was made up with military precision. He’d once been a messy kid, but at some point he’d realized that he was a soldier in the battle for himself. His walls were decorated with the gory pictures he’d painted in art class. War wasn’t pretty.

On the other side of the room... Nothing on the walls, but... Since Cecil had been able to walk, he’d made himself these... nests. Out of blankets, sheets, towels, clothing, whatever. He kept all of his stuff, his books, his toys, all of it, in the folds of the nest. At fourteen, he was still doing it. At least now he was making them on top of his bed, but Simon wasn’t sure if that was on purpose or just because that was where the nest had landed. Anyhow, there was the nest, and there was the telltale lump that told him Cecil was in residence.

Simon sat down on the side of Cecil’s mattress. It was hard to believe he could love and hate someone so much at the same time. His mother was a loss, but... He prodded the lump. Somewhere from in the nest, Cecil raised his head, poking it out through the layers of fabric.

There he was, white blond hair, skin tanner than Simon’s would ever be, even in the deepest summer, and three eyes of a milky white that had put Simon off of hard-boiled eggs since before he could remember. He blinked solemnly from behind the Coke-bottle glasses that shielded the two bottom eyes.

“Yes?”

“It didn’t last long, did it?”

“What?”

“Mother’s vacation in sanity.”

“Oh. Oh, no, she’s okay. She saw something that upset her, that’s all.”

“She’s getting worse, you know.”

Cecil’s mouth set into a hard line. “No. She’s the same as she’s always been.” There was a bright edge of rising panic in his voice.

Simon shook his head, not feeling energetic enough to have that particular argument. Then he thought of something, and grinned. “Oh, hey, speaking of delusional, I saw your buddy Earl out tonight. He said you were stupid and dumb and ugly, then he made out with like three girls.”

Cecil snorted. “No, he didn’t. I saw him talking to you.”

Simon felt a violent flash of anger. He jumped on top of his younger brother, twisting his arm painfully behind his back.

“Were you spying on me with your _brain again_ , you little freak? Tell me the truth, or I swear to the Gods I’ll break your face.”

Cecil squirmed and grunted beneath him. “No! No, Simon, I swear! I wasn’t spying on you!”

“Oh, yeah, then how do you know about Hurl?”

“I wasn’t spying on you, I was spying on HIM, I swear, please let me go!!”

Oh. Simon breathed in deeply for a moment, collected himself, then let go of his brother’s arm. He slapped Cecil upside the head.

“Okay, well, let that be a lesson to you, okay? Don’t you ever, EVER spy on me or I WILL kill you, okay?”

“Oh- okay,” Cecil sniffled.

Simon stood and rolled his shoulders, then pointed at his brother. “Go fucking bury yourself again, I’m sick of looking at your ugly face.” Cecil obligingly burrowed back into his covers. Simon made sure he was well and truly hidden, then took the small box out of his pocket.

 _Finally, you get what you deserve._ The words resonated in his mind as if they’d been spoken aloud. Grinning ferociously, he placed the box under his pillow, then stripped to his shorts and went to bed.


End file.
